


Without him

by Valadilen



Series: The Cursed Witch [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kaer Morhen, Magic, Nudity, One Shot, Separations, Sexual Content, Sorceresses, Witchcraft, Witches, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valadilen/pseuds/Valadilen
Summary: Right before new Witchers go on the Path alone for the first time, there is a little ceremony. It's short and doesn't mean much, but it's an opportunity for people to meet. Eskel happens to be late at this ceremony while Joséphine (OC) needs to plan her life without him in it.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Character(s), Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Cursed Witch [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587334
Kudos: 12





	Without him

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a series: The Cursed Witch. It's a collection of stories about Joséphine, a sorceress who became a witch after being cursed by Yennefer of Vengerberg.

It was long past the time to wake up when Joséphine started to feel the weight on her breast, as she was leaving the realm of dreams. Long hair gathered in a messy braid… It felt so soft on her skin. The young woman never expected that a young man three years younger would be so heavy once asleep. Yet she refused to move so he wouldn’t wake up. She wanted him here: his cheek resting on her breast, his breath on her skin, his arms around her body but with his hand capturing a long lock of his lover’s hair to keep close to his lips.  
As long as he stayed there, she could remember every touch from last night. It was not they first time, thus did not feel the awkwardness of the first moments of intimacy. However, it did not lack of tenderness and pleasure. Joséphine enjoyed herself a lot; and from what she witnessed, Eskel did too.

Joséphine counted the breaths and the heart beats. She liked to isolate the noises around her when calmness surrounds everything.

One… … Two… Three… … … Four… … Five…

 _Strange._ She though.

He’s breathing was irregular, as was his heartbeat. Were the mutations responsible for this? She moved her hand to gently caress Eskel’s head. His mutations changed a lot of things. How many people could witness such change? Parents never get to see their sons gone to Kaer Morhen ever again. The boys were too young to have girlfriends or true best friends. And the Witchers rarely took children from the villages around the fortress. Eskel was one of the exceptions: the payment for a debt. In his particular case, only Joséphine had met him again, after his transformation. when she saw him, she barely recognized him; mostly because she never had a lot of occasions in their youth to see him, but also because he went from small boy of seven years old to strong young adult who had intense physical training most his life. And his eyes... cat eyes, like the rest of the Witchers. Joséphine regretted not trying to sneak off home more often. If she did, then maybe she could remember what color Eskel's eyes were. Not that she dislike the cat eyes, quite the contrary. There was something very intense about them. Fortunately, now she could describe him with every detail without thinking twice. The Witcher could say the same about her...

While her fingers wandered on Eskel's head, she noticed a scar he had on his skull. He got from falling from the cliff and into the river. The whole village talked about it for days; for weeks, when it was certain he would live. Joséphine ran her fingers in his hair, undoing the braid in the process. The scar from the wound she heard so much about... Now it did not feel like much; but it had to be very traumatic, for Eskel, for his friends, for the village. The young woman regretted for not fighting her parents more, so she could be part of the village life. Being locked away to study, to become the perfect noblewoman despite having no coin nor power to the name... Had she fought, maybe she would have been more friends with Eskel instead of simply knowing each others existence.

Eskel sighed. His body moved a bit as he unconsciously searched for a better position. His head shifted side to rest on Joséphine’s other breast; his hand sleepily cupped the one freed to keep it warm. The young woman appreciated the unintentional thoughtful gesture. She fought with herself to not laugh, which was nearly impossible.  
With him between her legs, she wanted him to wake up and love her again. However, after the night they had, it would be surprising if he could have sex again, this soon.

 _Men…!_ Joséphine laughed in her thoughts, knowing Eskel was the first she ever got closed too and fully expected him to be the last.

Sex never interested her. She disliked the entire fantasy and dutiful ideas around the whole thing. Sex is for married couples. Sex is for producing children. Women’s pleasure is dirty; thus only men can have sex everything that moves. When a woman likes sex and/or pleasure, then she’s a slut. That was an idea Joséphine could not possibly understand. Why would gender, something out of our control, could make sexual relations clean or dirty?  
The penetration itself never brought her pleasure; fortunately, Eskel was curious about everything, thus tried many different things. He wanted to know what made her sigh, moan or, on the contrary, what let her completely indifferent. His attitude encourages Joséphine to be curious too. Anyway: great sex!  
While smiling stupidly, Joséphine looked at the widows. The sun was up.

The sun was…

Merde! She cursed right before shaking Eskel awake.

“The sun is up! You’ll be late!” She exclaimed.

It took a moment for the young Witcher to fully wake up and understand what was happening. The sun was up. As soon as the meaning of the sentence made its way to his brain, he jumped out of bed to dress up as fast as he could; followed by Joséphine. She fixed her hair when he fixed his. He was living when she spotted the medallion still on the nightstand.

“Wait!”

She ran to him, put the necklace around his neck then told him she’ll be there in time. He left.

Joséphine rushed to put some order in her appearance. Her dress was clean, the corset was tied, the hair was disciplined in a large bun behind her skull, boots on… Was she forgetting something? Teeth! She rushed to clean them. She preferred if no one could guess what her nocturnal activities were.

Once she was ready, she opened a portal and walked through it. She hated portals, but there was no time to waste: Eskel and his brothers were having the last ceremony as pups of Kaer Morhen. After that, they’ll be allowed to walk the Path on their own.

~*~

The ceremony was a formality more than a necessity. According to the eldest witchers, there was no such thing in their time; but it became necessary the less bearable the rituals became. A bit of fun to forget the hardship… Joséphine wished her Master had thrown a party when he gave her her diploma. Mages love to party as much as studying. But only the best apprentice had parties to their honor.  
She was waiting in the courtyard with the other guests: witchers from other schools, some personal friends to the leaders of the Wolf School, local mayors who were both reluctant and curious about the Fortress and its inhabitant. Joséphine was the only “domestic” guest, a childhood friend of one of the Pups. She was allowed here because there was no telling to a sorceress what to do. Although it wasn’t true with Joséphine who disliked imposing her presence, none of the Witchers needed to know that detail about her right now. She wanted to see Eskel. Today might be the last one she’ll get to spend time with him. Who knew what could happen on the Path.  
One of the instructors approached her. It was Vesemir, the only “grown-up” in Kaer Morhen who ever felt the need to speak with her instead of talking about her and spreading rumors. He was a father figure to Eskel; he certainly always sounded like the voice of authority to Josephine’s ears. Although the Witcher could not show feelings, Joséphine knew she had to brace herself.

“Have I ever told you, you have a beautiful scent?” Vesemir said.

She gave him a look, with one eyebrow so lifted so high it disappeared in her hair.

“I beg your pardon?” She softly let out.

“Dianthus and smoky perfume made from the mix of scent from both the plants used in alchemy and the fumes of the potions.” The Witcher added. “It reminds me of Eskel from two hours ago, when he showed up in the training court late. Knowing that Eskel is never late and how stupid he looked when he arrived, I’d say you know something.”

“Why would I know anything?” Joséphine coyly said.

“Your neck says you do.” Vesemir said, giving her a scarf with a sigh.

Joséphine immediately reached for her neck. The skin was sensitive in some spots. When she conjured a mirror, she had the displeasure of discovering dark spots. Merde… She had been careful with her hair, her teeth, her clothes… but completely forgot about how their fun from last night left a mark. Marks. It left marks. Plural. She accepted the scarf and put it quickly around her neck.

“I take it you had a very friendly diner last night with him and lost track of time.” Vesemir added, obviously not a fool about it all. “I should say something about such behavior… But I don’t see the point scolding you two now. You are a grown woman and an independent sorceress; he’s about to officially become a Witcher, thus is an adult too.” Vesemir said, sitting next to Joséphine on the improvised stone bench. “I still feel like I should remind you that from todays until his death, Eskel is a Witcher. You cannot expect a normal life. He’ll be on the Path, always looking for the next job. “Coming home” is not our way. Even if he has tender feelings for you, he’ll never be a husband or anything similar.”

“Who said I’m expecting such thing?”

Joséphine was twenty-one years old (which made Eskel nineteen). She was a full-fledge sorceress, meant for an extraordinary life by natural laws. Normal was definitely not in the list of her priorities. She wanted to study, to work, to do good. She wanted to build a home for herself, right books and enhance alchemy techniques. If Eskel could fit in all that, all the better! But she understood quite well what Vesemir meant. Her lover will never be truly hers. He’ll always be away, on a job then the next. What the old Witcher did not know though was that Joséphine never though Eskel as “hers”. When she met him for the first time after they both left their village, he was taken by his training and she by her work. It was only her curiosity that pushed her to keep contact –their friendship became tender feelings. They were attracted by one another but knew it would not go far: they were simply too busy.

Yet Vesemir’s words were a bit painful, as they voiced something Joséphine did not want to think about.

Joséphine did not put Vesemir’s words in her heart just yet. She’ll use them when Eskel will be gone, to keep herself grounded. Until then, she’ll enjoy the present. And the present was the ceremony. Eight young men were made officially witchers; among them was Eskel. Although reading his emotions was a waste of time, Joséphine knew he felt proud. He hated the Trials from the very core of his being; but also felt like this path was his destiny, that being a Witcher was fulfilling his duties to the universe.  
He was standing next to a white-hair man of the same age. Joséphine saw him only a couple times and only for afar; but the description Eskel made of his best friend convinced Joséphine that Geralt was indeed the white-hair young man. From the gossips she heard in the crowd, he was the favorite, the most skilled. Yet, Joséphine could remember quite well how she feels everytime Eskel touches her. It was a feeling between tickles and waves; all of it was magic. Even without having any physical contact with Geralt, the sorceress could see, clear as day, that the young man was not as powerful as Eskel. Perhaps he had better control of the signs? Unless his knowledge and mastery of the swords made him the perfect Witcher? While studying the man from her sit, Joséphine had the feeling she will hear a lot more about him in the future.

She was sitting against the wall, far behind the guests. Joséphine was the only woman in the assembly. Her magic nature did not help in feeling welcomed. The humans were watching her closely and the Witchers were trying to ignore her presence. Most of the the people here were unaware of her connection with one of the new Witchers, thus they believed she was here either for business or was a bad omen. In fact, except for Vesemir who made it clear he knew how close the two were, no one knew that Eskel and Joséphine were lovers. Friends for some, siblings for the most oblivious others.

Witchers were not master of words, thus the speeches were kept short and to-the-point. If the ceremony was organized and meant for normal humans, it would have taken a lot longer. Giving each new Witchers new silver blades and congratulation was nothing complicated. Once it was done, everybody was ready to feast. Everyone who cared enough –which concerned a great number of guests— wanted to congratulate the news Wolves and their instructors. But none could stop Eskel from making his way to the back of the assembly. Joséphine watched him gently thanking the guests while keeping his eyes on her. Once he finally reached her, she kept studying him. Her legs were crossed, her elbow resting on her knee and her chin resting in her hand; she had a proud smile, but her eyes were filled with sadness. Or was it nostalgia? Eskel could not tell. The only thing he knew for sure was that she needed him to sit with her, to be here. He had to admit her presence was much needed too. He was not looking forward going on the Path despite training for this day his whole life.

“Congratulations, Witcher Eskel.” She said.

“Witcher Eskel…” He repeated. “Sounds weird.”

“Really? I think it suits you.” Joséphine smiled. “You are a full-fledge Witcher now; are you ready for the Path and the whole monster-slaying business?” She added.

“I am indeed and… I supposed. I know I can, but I’m doubting.” He replied, feeling the tension growing.

“Doubting is good. Certainty brings confidence, but too much of it brought many people to a rather brutal death. Doubting your own capacities is a way to improve as well as to remain on guard.”

Eskel let a low chuckle out. He should have known she’ll have a philosophical comment. The woman was, after all, a scholar.

“I’m going to miss this.” He said.

“Miss what? Me or making fun of me?” She asked, pouting.

“Both.” He smiled. “What will you do while I’m gone?”

“Depends.” She said. “I could stay here, if I have the right reasons. Or I could go on a journey myself.”

“What would be the right reasons?”

“Well, one of the good reasons to stay would be to keep working for the people in the region without waiting for someone. If that someone never returns, then there is no telling what I’ll do with myself.”

Eskel almost regretted asking. That someone was him, without a doubt. In a way he was flattered to be wanted. However, he understood that he would be keeping her here. Kaedwen was a fine play to live; but sorceresses were known to be strong independent woman with an appetite for small and great luxuries. He wouldn’t be surprised to hear Joséphine wanting to move into a big city; even if it would be a bit off character.

“And what if you decide to go on a journey, where will you go?”

“I always wanted to see the world. I could revisit Toussaint. I could also go to Novigrad, Vizima… I admit I would love to visit emblematic elven sites.”

“Won’t your family miss you?”

“They will, I’m sure. But I’ll miss someone else more.”

“Who?” the Witcher asked with a smirk on his lips.

Joséphine gave Eskel a unimpressed look. He was fishing for knowledge he already had. And compliments? Perhaps. He never really needed them, but never turned them down.  
She put her hand on his cheek, caressing gently. His cat eyes were looking straight at her, wondering what she was thinking as well as enjoying the view. Eskel could not deny his affection for the young sorceress. Not only was she intelligent and kind, but she was beautiful. Sure, some might argue that there were true goddesses of beauty made in flesh in the world; elves had also a natural beauty. Yet, Eskel loved how she looked, the color of her eyes, her hair, the form of her eyebrows, nose, lips, jawline… He loved how she looked, her body as well as her manners, the way she stands, the way she acts. She was a noblewoman from a fallen house of Toussaint. She was raised by nobles, in a small, poor Kaedwen village. The mix was odd, but Eskel loved it. He could watch her move all day. He could listen to her sharp accent his whole life.

“I’m not sure if we’ll see each other again.” She said. “But try not to forget me too fast.”

Eskel chuckled, amused by the idea that he could forget her. He leaned a bit in her hand, enjoying it softness and trying to engrave the feeling in his brain. When he’ll leave tonight, he wants to keep feeling her soft fingers on his cheek.

“May I ask… Why are you wearing a scarf? It smells like Vesemir.” Eskel wondered. “I don’t recall seeing you ever being cold.”  
Joséphine was wondering when will the question fall. The scarf was an aberration to her outfit. She pulled a bit on the cloth to reveal the marks. What Eskel saw made him smile.

“You should wear one too.” She commented.

Eskel immediately reached for his neck.

“How many people do you think noticed?” He wondered.

“Does it matter?” Joséphine answered. “According to Vesemir I smell like Dianthus and alchemy fumes.”

The Witcher paused for a moment. Why was she telling him this? Why would Vesemir say such thing… Then two brain cells connected. If Eskel could blush, his face would have turn into a deep red color. Fortunately for him, the mutagen prevented such show of embarrassment.

  
They looked at each other. Then laughed.


End file.
